But now, by the continuance of the dance, all who were at first at the upper end had descended to the bottom, where, by the laws of the diversion, they ought to have waited quietly till their companions, becoming in their turn uppermost, had danced down to their former places. But when Miss Simmons and Harry expected to have had their just share of
the exercise, they found that almost all their companions had deserted them and retired to their places. Harry could not help wondering at this behaviour; but Miss Simmons told him with a smile, that it was only of a piece with the rest, and she had often remarked it at country assemblies, where all the gentry of a county were gathered together. "This is frequently the way," added she, "that those who think themselves superior to the rest of the world choose to show their importance." "This is a very bad way indeed," replied Harry; "people may choose whether they will dance or practise any particular diversion, but, if they do, they ought to submit to the laws of it without repining; and I have always observed among the little boys whom I am acquainted with, that wherever this disposition prevails, it is the greatest proof of a bad and contemptible temper." "I am afraid," replied Miss Simmons, "that your observations will hold universally true, and that those who expect so much for themselves, without being willing to consider their fellow-creatures in turn, in whatever station they are found, are always the most mean, ignorant, and despicable of the species."
"I remember," said Harry, "reading a story of a great man called Sir Philip Sydney. This gentleman was reckoned not only the bravest but the politest person in all England. It happened that he was sent over the sea to assist some of our allies against their enemies. After having distinguished himself in such a manner as gained him the love and esteem of all the army, this excellent man one day received a shot which broke his thigh, as he was
bravely fighting at the head of his men. Sir Philip Sydney felt that he was mortally wounded, and was obliged to turn his horse's head, and retire to his tent, in order to have his wound examined. By the time that he had reached his tent, he not only felt great agonies from his wound, but the heat of the weather, and the fever which the pain produced, had excited an intolerable thirst, so that he prayed his attendants to fetch him a little water. With infinite difficulty some water was procured and brought to him, but, just as he was raising the cup to his lips, he chanced to see a poor English soldier, who had been mortally wounded in the same engagement, and lay upon the ground faint and bleeding, and ready to expire. The poor man was suffering, like his general, from the pain of a consuming thirst, and therefore, though respect prevented him from asking for any, he turned his dying eyes upon the water with an eagerness which sufficiently explained his sufferings. Upon this the excellent and noble gentleman took the cup, which he had not yet tasted, from his lips, and gave it to his attendants, ordering them to carry it to the wounded soldier, and only saying, 'this poor man wants it still more than I do.'"
"This story," added Harry, "was always a particular favourite with Mr Barlow, and he has often pointed it out to me as an example not only of the greatest virtue and humanity, but also of that elevated method of thinking which constitutes the true gentleman. 'For what is it,' I have heard him say, 'that gives a superiority of manners, but the inclination to sacrifice our own pleasures and
interests to the well-being of others?' An ordinary person might have pitied the poor soldier, or even have assisted him, when he had first taken care of himself; but who, in such a dreadful extremity as the brave Sydney was reduced to, would be capable of even forgetting his own sufferings to relieve another, who had not acquired the generous habit of always slighting his own gratifications for the sake of his fellow-creatures?"
As Harry was conversing in this manner, the little company had left off dancing, and were refreshing themselves with a variety of cakes and agreeable liquors, which had been provided for the occasion. Tommy Merton and the other young gentleman were now distinguishing themselves by their attendance upon the ladies, whom they were supplying with everything they chose to have, but no one thought it worth his while to wait upon Miss Simmons. When Harry observed this, he ran to the table, and upon a large waiter brought her cakes and lemonade, which he presented, if not with a better grace, with a more sincere desire to oblige than any of the rest. But, as he was stooping down to offer her the choice, Master Mash unluckily passed that way, and, elated by the success of his late piece of ill-nature, determined to attempt a second still more brutal than the first. For this reason, just as Miss Simmons was helping herself to some wine and water, Mash, pretending to stumble, pushed Harry in such a manner that the greater part of the contents of the glasses was discharged full into her bosom. The young lady coloured at the insult, and Harry, who instantly
perceived that it had been done on purpose, being no longer able to contain his indignation, seized a glass that was only half-emptied, and discharged the contents full into the face of the aggressor. Mash, who was a boy of violent passion, exasperated at this retaliation, which he so well deserved, instantly caught up a drinking glass, and flung it full at the head of Harry. Happy was it for him that it only grazed his head without taking the full effect; it, however, laid bare a considerable gash, and Harry was in an instant covered with his own blood, the sight of which provoked him the more, and made him forget both the place and the company where he was, so that, flying upon Mash with all the fury of just revenge, a dreadful combat ensued, which put the whole room in a consternation.
But Mr Merton soon appeared, and with some difficulty separated the enraged champions. He then inquired into the subject of the contest, which Master Mash endeavoured to explain away as an accident. But Harry persisted in his account with so much firmness, in which he was corroborated by Miss Simmons, that Mr Merton readily perceived the truth. Mash, however, apologised for himself in the best manner that he was able, by saying, that he only meant to play Master Harry an innocent trick, but that he had undesignedly injured Miss Simmons.
Whatever Mr Merton felt, he did not say a great deal; he, however, endeavoured to pacify the enraged combatants, and ordered assistance to Harry to bind up the wound, and clean him from the blood which had now disfigured him from head to foot.